


Distracted Dismissal

by writerdot



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Car Accident, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdot/pseuds/writerdot
Summary: After Wilson is in a car accident, House finds out that Wilson has kept something from him.





	

“Hang on, we’re getting you out. Can you tell me your name? Sir-“

There’s a cold wind on his face and an annoying voice in his ear. There shouldn’t be a cold wind….and he wonders why he’s hearing voices.

“Can you hear me? Do you know who you are?”

He tries to open his mouth, to tell the annoying voice to go away and close the window, but he feels the cold and wind is all over his body now. He’s tired and his entire body hurts and it’s getting to be too much, the cold, the excruciating pain…

…and the pain blooms in his chest, the familiar, new symptoms flaring up, he feels like he’s suffocating and he can’t get to his medicine and he gasps for air and sees the face in front of him…the obvious source of the voice he thought he’d been imagining.

“Damn it, he’s cyanotic! Strap him up and get him in! We’re going to Princeton General! Go!”

12 Hours Earlier

“We need to find what what’s killing this girl, House. You don’t get to play with Wilson while we try to cure her!”

Doctor Gregory House looks at his team of exhausted and bitchy doctors, leans on the door with Wilson’s name on it and glares murderously. “So go run the tests. In the time it’s taken you idiots to bitch at me, you could have them done already!”

Chase, Taub and Foreman glare at him as he turns back and opens the door, limping in before slamming it in their faces.

James Wilson looks up at him, putting something in the drawer in his desk and coughing once. He looks tired, but thankfully not as bitchy…well, that House knows of, yet. This latest case has taken up a lot of his time lately, and he doesn’t know if he’s done anything to piss Wilson off lately.

“Hey,” Wilson says softly. “How’s your patient?”

“Dying. I hear we’re getting a blizzard.”

House likes that his lover gets the hint that he needs a break from his patient for just a few minutes at least.

“We did watch the same weather forecast this morning before your pager went off.”

“I love how you can cook me breakfast and watch TV all at the same time.”

“You don’t think I know how to multi-task?”

House grins at him. “Oh, I know you do.”

Wilson grins but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes and House leans his chin atop his hands, which are folded on the handle of his cane to look at Wilson speculatively. “You okay?”

Wilson shrugs. “Fine, why?”

“You seem tired. Heard the cough. You take something?”

“I’m fine, House. Don’t worry. It’s just been a long day.”

It’s barely 11 O’clock in the morning. “You sure?”

Wilson only looks mildly irritated as he says “You want to perform a differential on me now? You know I had that cold last week. Maybe it’s just residual from that.”

“It is hard to forget the constant congested snoring.”

“How would you know? Your pager kept going off in the middle of it.”

“You know, that differential might be a good idea. You are bitchy. If I wanted bitchy, I would have gone to supervise the tests my minions are running.”

Wilson brings his hand up and rubs at his eyes. “I’m not ‘bitchy’, House, okay? I’m tired.”

“Okay,” House shrugs. “I’m here now. Got a few minutes. Anything you want to talk about?”

Wilson looks at him, frustration and weariness etched on his face. But when he sees House’s face, and notices that there is no trace of mockery there, he softens. “I’m all right, House. Really. I’m still a little rundown from that cold, is all.”

House holds his gaze for a minute before nodding slowly. “Okay,” he says again.

Wilson doesn’t say anything to that, he just turns back to a file on his desk and grabs his pen. House manages to stay silent for almost a minute and a half before he says, “So, I was thinking.”

“I appreciate you warning me when you do that.”

“Yeah yeah, score for you. I’m going to cure this patient today. I’m sick of her taking up so much of my time. So, I say, after work we go stock up on beer and pizza, get some movies and, you know, not watch them for the duration of this blizzard.”

“A blizzard that hasn’t even started yet?”

“We both know that I hardly need an excuse for anything I do. This one’s just convenient.”

“Well, then, why do you need me?”

“You’ve got a great ass.”

Wilson looks up at him with a smirk. “Sounds good. May run late, though, I may have to admit a guy who I think may have prostate cancer. He’s coming in at four.”

House’s pager goes off; he looks at it and sees the ‘911’. Grabbing his cane, he gets up and leans forward to kiss Wilson lightly. “I’m hunting you down at five. Better be ready.”

******  
By four-thirty, though, he still doesn’t know what’s wrong with his patient. House goes to hunt Wilson down at 4:59, to tell him that their not-watching-the-movie movie night will have to wait a few more hours, when he sees that Wilson’s not actually in his office. The lights are on, though, and his jacket is on the coat rack, which means that he’s wearing his lab coat and off being a doctor somewhere in the hospital.

Suddenly he hears yelling down the hall and limps toward the noise. He gets to the source in time to see a big man take a swing at Wilson as security guards strain to hold the man back.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Wilson turns toward him. “Nothing to worry about House. Can you wait for me in my office?”

House opens his mouth, not to argue with his lover, but to rain a tongue lashing down onto the oaf now sitting in the bed with his head in his hands, but Wilson puts a hand on his arm, takes a deep breath and whispers, “Please, House. Just wait for me in my office.”

House takes the scene in and nods slowly before turning around and walking back to the office and plopping himself down into Wilson’s desk chair. He hears no more yelling from down the hall, but it’s another twenty minutes before Wilson comes back. When he does, he sees House’s back to the door as he rearranges the books on Wilson’s bookshelf in, as far as Wilson can tell, order of height.

“You do the strangest things when you’re bored.”

House shrugs and spins around in the chair. “Not news. Prostate guy?”

Wilson nods wearily, rubbing a hand over his eyes and sitting gracelessly on the couch. “Yeah. I was right and he didn’t take the news well.”

“Also not surprising….you okay?”

Wilson looks at him and nods. “We still up for the movies and pizza? I could use the pick-me-up tonight.”

As he looks at his lover, House really wants to say yes, but Wilson sees the look in his eye and deflates a little. “Didn’t even ask. Still not doing well?”

House shrugs. “Stable and not dying anymore, but we don’t know why she was dying in the first place. I think we’re close. A few hours? I’ll stop and get food.”

“I might be asleep.”

“You don’t think I’ll wake you up?”

Wilson grins tiredly. “Okay.”

House nods once. “You’ll be okay to drive? The snow’s started, I hear.”

“I’ll be fine.”

House doesn’t like how worn out Wilson looks. “All right…do me a favor though?”

“My credit card for the food?”

“No,” House considers. “Well, yes. But no.” Wilson smiles and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out the credit card and going to hand it to House. As House grabs it, he takes Wilson’s wrist in his hand and rubs his thumb over his pulse point. “Just…call me when you get home, okay?”

Wilson kisses him lightly and promises to do so.

*****  
When House shuffles in the door at 9:45 that night, Chinese in one hand, he sees that Wilson is, in fact, asleep. He’s sprawled on the couch, his left hand holding the remote on his stomach and his right hand draped over the side of the couch, fingertips just a hair above the floor. House sighs and looks at him for a moment before putting his bag down next the couch and going into the kitchen to put the food on a plate.

When he gets back into the living room, Wilson is sitting up rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” House says, gesturing for Wilson to move his feet so he can sit down. “Food’s on the counter.”

“Okay,” Wilson mumbles, but doesn’t move to get up, instead just putting his legs over House’s lap. House glares at him, but instead of saying anything he just puts the plate on Wilson’s shins and digs in. “How’s your patient?”

“We figured it out. Treating her now, she should be good to go by tomorrow afternoon.”

Wilson smiles softly. “Took a week to figure it out and she gets to go home tomorrow afternoon?”

House shrugs, shoving food into his mouth. “She lied.”

That’s all the explanation Wilson needs, because, of course, they all lie. Wilson smiles softly, laying his head back against the arm of the couch, watching House eat. When House is done, he turns to Wilson, sees him looking at House, sleepy and rumpled and House leans forward slowly, but stops just before Wilson’s face, so close that they’re sharing breath.

Wilson smiles slowly. “Yes?”

House can’t help the careful smile that turns the corners of his mouth up. “Nothing.”

Wilson stretches his neck up carefully, meeting House’s lips for a slow kiss. When he backs away, he does so just enough to search House’s eyes carefully. He notes they look both mildly amused and aroused. “Still nothing?”

House kisses him this time, and there’s no more coherent conversation after that.

*****  
Wilson inwardly groans when the alarm goes off at six, but he manages to turn it off and glance at House to make sure that he didn’t wake up (he didn’t and that’s no great shock) before getting up and heading for the shower.

Forty five minutes later, he’s on the road, driving to Princeton General. The snow is coming down in droves and he dearly wishes that he’d stayed in bed with House, but he knows he has to go to this appointment. He just wishes he didn’t have to.

His cell phone rings just as he’s stopped behind a row of slowly moving cars, all following an even slower snow plow. He curses sharply and keeps a hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road as he carefully answers the phone.

“James Wilson.”

“Doctor Wilson,” the voice of his assistant comes across the line. “John Stanowski called. He wants another appointment.”

Wilson sighs, remembering the patient he’d diagnosed yesterday. “Was he calm?”

“He seems to be. You have an opening at ten. Should I schedule him in?”

Wilson glances at the time on the dashboard. He’s already running late for his 7:30 appointment, but he thinks he might be able to make a ten o’clock. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He hangs up with his assistant, looks away for half a second to put the phone back into the cup holder, before looking up and slamming sharply on the breaks.

Instead of stopping however, the car swerves and he feels the sudden loss of traction, the desperate scramble of his car to find some relief from the black ice.

Wilson hears the staggering sound of metal on metal before everything goes dark.

*****  
“Caucasian male, 41 years old, temperature 91.6, BP is 70 over 50 and cyanotic found about 15 minutes ago. Warm saline and warm compresses en route for the hypothermia.”

Dr. Alicia Tanner looks at the man on the gurney, naked and covered in heavy blankets. His clothes must have been wet, she thinks passively as she accompanies the EMTs and three nurses to the nearest exam room.

“Name?”

One of the EMTs looks at her. “We found his wallet in his jacket pocket. Driver’s license says he’s James Wilson.”

“All right. Lift on three.”

“-one-two-three.”

An hour later, James Wilson is stabilized and he’s no longer hypotensive. Alicia rubs the back of her neck tiredly as she walks to the nurse’s station. “Trauma room 2 can be moved to a room. We need to contact his family let them know where he is.”

The nurse, who was looking up the information on the computer, shakes her head. “I have his chart here. His emergency contact is a Lisa Cuddy.”

“He’s a patient here?”

“He had a seven thirty appointment this morning with Archer.” The nurse looks at the computer screen again. “He also had one last Wednesday with Archer.”

“Page Doctor Archer, then, and tell him that his patient is in a room down here instead. And see if you can’t get a hold of Lisa Cuddy.”

*****  
House wakes up with a start, not quite able to figure out what woke him up. He looks at the clock and sees that it’s 7:35 am and in place of Wilson’s head on the pillow next to him, is a note that says had an appointment at 7:30, you swore at me when I tried to wake you up to tell you. Find me after 12. Wilson.

He vaguely remembers Wilson’s frustrated huff earlier this morning. Well, House thinks. Of course I swore at you, if you leave me in bed to go see a patient at 7:30 in the morning. House wonders if the early appointment after the night they had is payback for House leaving Wilson alone while he was sick last week to deal with his patient, but before House can dwell on that thought further, there’s a loud pounding on his front door.

“House!”

His head turns sharply towards the living room and he passively notices that the snow is coming down hard outside of his window as he grabs his cane and walks through the doorway to the pounding on his door, the obvious source to his abrupt awakening.

“Wait a damn second!” He yells and gets up, reaching for his cane.

As he gets closer to the door, he recognizes the voice yelling and opens it to see Cuddy standing on the other side, her fist poised for another pound against the door. She settles for hitting him in the chest instead.

“What the hell!” House grouses. “You don’t get enough out of harassing me at work, you have to come to my home and do it, too?”

“House,” she hisses sharply, and it’s then that he notices that her eyes are red and puffy.

And Wilson isn’t here…Cuddy is at his door instead, looking like she’s been crying.

“Cuddy,” he says slowly. “Did Wilson have an appointment this morning with one of his patients?”

She looks at him sadly and shakes her head. “I came to get you. Didn’t want you driving in this weather after I tell you that Wilson’s been in an accident. We need to get to Princeton General.”

*****  
Cuddy tells him the specifics on the drive over, hoping to stave off any of House’s ranting and raving about not getting to the hospital fast enough, but it doesn’t help that the storm nearly doubles the time it takes to get there. When they finally do, they’re met with a tall brunette in the ER lobby, who walks toward them with a hand outstretched.

“Doctor Cuddy? We spoke on the phone about James Wilson?”

Cuddy takes the woman’s hand and shakes it briefly before putting it on House’s mouth when she sees him open it to deliver what she’s sure to be a scathing retort. “Yes. Hi. This is Doctor House. He’s actually the one who’s Doctor Wilson’s medical proxy.”

To her credit, the doctor doesn’t flinch at the look on House’s face as she begins to lead them to a room down the hallway.  
“Of course. I’m Doctor Alicia Tanner. Let me take you to our patient. You’re both doctors, so, I know I shouldn’t have to tell you that what you see may come as a shock, but I’m going to say it anyway. What you see may come as a shock.”

She holds the door open and Cuddy lets House go first. He’s barely in the room when he sees the man in the bed and turns around.

“It’s him.”

Cuddy lets out a deep breath, having gotten actual proof that this is her friend and oncologist in that bed, and turns to Tanner. “What is the extent of the injuries?”

House ignores the conversation in favor of reading the chart at the end of the bed. He’d rather see it scientifically then have some idiot tell him in a ‘compassionate voice.’

He reads the injuries and sees hypothermic-temperature upon admittance 91.6, hypotensive and cyanotic along with nasal fracture, broken left wrist, multiple lacerations and bruising to the face and body. BP, 70/50 upon admittance, given Fludrocortisone for hypotension.

“…his temperature is still low, but as you can see, Doctor House, heat packs to the neck, armpit and groin have been applied and his temperature is up to 94.2. We’ll be putting a cast on his wrist here soon. With a few days….well, I’m sure you know that he’ll make a full recovery.”

He doesn’t say anything, just moves next to Wilson’s bed and stares at his lover’s bruised face as Cuddy comes over to stand next to him. She takes Wilson’s hand briefly, before releasing it and putting a hand on House’s shoulder. “I’ll call his parents and let them know he’s okay.”

He nods, not taking his eyes off of Wilson.

Sometime later, someone has brought in a more comfortable chair for him to sit in, probably also arranged by Cuddy (he promises to himself that he’ll not make any comments about her breasts for at least eight hours for her help).

It’s another two hours before Wilson opens his eyes.

“House…”

House leans forward and grabs Wilson’s searching hand. “Right here. It’s about time you woke up. The TV here sucks as much as the TV at our place does. Need you to entertain me.”

Wilson looks confused. “TV…wasn’t on…”

“How would you know, stupid? Your eyes were closed.”

Wilson smiles passively before his eyes drift closed again.

“Wilson,” House says softly. “You can go back to sleep in a minute. But can you tell me today’s date?”

Wilson’s eyes drift open and he looks at House drowsily. “January 20, 2012.”

“Good. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Black ice…car hit a guard rail.”

That’s what Cuddy had told him had happened on the way over. House nods slowly.

“Good. Go back to sleep. I’ll go torture someone about transferring you. You’re not staying here.”

Wilson blinks himself awake. “No. Don’t go.”

House squeezes Wilson’s hand and sits back down.

He waits for Wilson to fall asleep before leaning over and kissing his forehead. He gets up, grabs his cane and turns to see Cuddy standing in the doorway.

“Everything’s taken care of, House. Sit back down.”

“I want him-“

“-transferred. I figured you would. As soon as his temperature reaches 98.6, we’ll move him to Princeton Plainsboro.” She holds a hand up to forestall his inevitable protest over waiting. “After what he’s been through, we’re going to be as careful as we can, House. It can wait until then. The police need to talk to him about what happened, too, but I managed to get them to wait until we get him to our hospital.”

House wants to protest and argue, but before he can open his mouth to state his case, he hears a disturbing noise from behind him and he turns his head swiftly to see Wilson arching his back and gasping for air.

House rushes towards him and Cuddy screams for help.

Twenty minutes later, Tanner barely breathes a sigh of relief as she comes out of Wilson’s room, before House is on her like a rabid dog.

“Let me back in, you useless excuse for a-“

Cuddy is trying her best to restrain him, but it isn’t working so well. “House-“

“Doctor House, this is MY PATIENT, you and Doctor Cuddy have no privileges to treat at this hospital! You know that I had to get the FAMILY out of that room, so I suggest you-“

House shrugs away from the hand that Cuddy has on his shoulder and gets into Alicia Tanner’s face. “I don’t give a damn about privileges. Let me into that room, or I swear to god, you will regret it.”

Tanner looked at this man’s face, saw the anger, the stubborn pride…but there was something else there too...and immediately it clicked. “You’re not just his medical proxy.”

“Very good,” House sneers. “Let-“

“Fine,” She interrupts. “But my team has already examined him. If you can take two seconds to stop your temper tantrum, then I can tell you what happened.”

And he stops. “Do you want me to guess?”

She sighs. “He had a severe asthma attack.”

House looks at her as though she’s just told him that she’s Wilson’s fourth wife. “He doesn’t-“

But then it all comes back to him, the symptoms that he had seen and let Wilson dismiss. The cough that he heard yesterday, the way that Wilson had seemed to put something away…could easily have been an inhaler….the fatigue...

But why the hell didn’t Wilson tell him that he had asthma?

“Doctor House….”

He looks up to see Tanner and Cuddy looking at him in concern.

“House, did you know…” Cuddy asks.

House shakes his head. “No.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Cuddy says. “You know that when he wants to hide something, he certainly knows how do it.”

Of course he knows that. “No reason to let his idiocy rub off on me, damn it.”

“Look,” Tanner begins and House looks at her, having forgotten she was even there. “With the hypothermia, we didn’t think to check for an underlying condition. But, he’s fine. We’ll get him set up with a dual nebulizer treatment. We definitely need to keep this under control.”

House is annoyed that this girl is bothering to give him more information that he knows, but at Cuddy’s look he decides to keep his mouth shut, instead just going straight for Wilson’s room. He hears Cuddy thank Tanner for her help as he shuts the door.

He looks at Wilson, expecting to see him sleeping, but instead he’s awake and staring right at House.

“You know,” he whispers. It’s not a question.

“You’re a moron,” House says back, leaning heavily on his cane.

Wilson tries to smile…or grimace. On his battered face it’s hard to tell. “I’m sorry.”

“When did you find out?”

“That meeting I had last Wednesday? That was a doctor’s appointment. I’d been feeling short of breath and congested and with that cold…but I know how you can be, so I came here. Doctor Archer examined me and said that it wasn’t a simple chest cold. He did a dual neb treatment, a prescription for Advair and I was okay with an inhaler.”

But House can hear the ‘but’ in his voice. “It started to get worse again.”

Wilson shrugged a little painfully. “You know how stressed I can get….I probably haven’t taken all of the precautions that I should have, making sure that I cover my face when I go outside and actually taking the Advair, but I kept forgetting, then with Stanowski…. I made another appointment, here…that’s why I got up early this morning, so I could get checked out again.”

“Trying to teach me the ultimate lesson in humility? That I can’t catch everything? That I didn’t know, for almost two weeks, that you have asthma?”

“Damn it, House,” Wilson snaps, but it’s weak and House hates that. Wilson should never sound like that. “I didn’t want you to notice a damn thing. I listed Cuddy as my emergency contact on the off chance that if something happened before I got the chance to tell you, you would hear it from her, and not from some other doctor you don’t know and probably wouldn’t believe anyway. You’d been under stress from your latest patient when I found out and I didn’t want to add to that. When you came home last night and told me you’d cured her, I’d planned to tell you after my appointment today.”

“You tried to take me up this morning. You could have ignored my swearing at you and told me. Your note let me assume you had an appointment with a patient.”

“I wanted to see what Archer said about the asthma. I wanted to know what was going on before I told you.”

“Damn it, Wilson,” House whispers, his tone belying his words. “You’re a moron.”

“House-“

But House doesn’t let him finish. He brings a hand up and covers Wilson’s bruised cheek. “You’re important to me, Wilson. You’ve always been important to me. Don’t…don’t keep something like this from me.”

Wilson smiles softly. “I’m sorry. I promise.”

House nods shortly and rubs his thumb over Wilson’s cheekbone once before dropping his hand. “Get some sleep. We’re blowing this popsicle stand in the morning. Get you to our hospital so I can make sure that you stop being an idiot.”

“’Kay…”

He sits next to Wilson’s bed, leans his chin on his cane and realizes that things have changed and will continue to change between them. How he goes from meeting this man outside of a jail cell, to refusing to see him through a liver transplant and going any way, to their first kiss in Wilson’s office after House had gotten through yet another difficult case is something that House doesn’t dwell on that often. He doesn’t need to, but he can’t help but reflect on it now.

Their relationship has evolved open displays of affection and him actually telling Wilson that he’s a hell of a lot more important then his patients in the past, present, and future. Damn it, Wilson’s turning him soft. He’ll have to make sure to insult Wilson more during his recovery.

He hears the door open as he’s making a mental list of things he can do to accomplish that objective and Cuddy comes to stand beside him, looking down at Wilson like a mama deer looking at her newborn. House takes a brief pleasure and not a little reassurance that Wilson tends to being out the protective instincts of everyone. House is sure that probably includes anyone and everyone that Wilson’s never even met.

“How is he?”

“You can read the chart.”

Cuddy sighs, but doesn’t bother. House would be railing and ranting if Wilson wasn’t okay. Instead, she smiles softly and puts a hand on Wilson’s arm carefully, before pulling back and squeezing House’s shoulder before turning and leaving quietly.

House makes himself comfortable and takes Wilson’s hand, feeling gratified when Wilson’s fingers immediately curl around his fingers without Wilson even waking up.

He doesn’t even bother to tell himself that he’s not watching Wilson sleep.


End file.
